


these chains never leave me / i keep draggin' them around

by avosettas



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Caretaking, Chronic Illness, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Outertale Sans (Undertale), Self-Esteem Issues, Texting, Underlust Sans (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Underswap Sans/Underlust Sans/Outertale Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29036358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas
Summary: The bed is empty and cold, and the apartment beyond the bedroom is silent.What a way to spend his birthday.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	these chains never leave me / i keep draggin' them around

**Author's Note:**

> i swear this was finished at 11:56pm, i swear - 
> 
> ANYWAY. this was also an excuse to flesh out my outer and lust sanses... they're both kind of work in progresses.
> 
> naminggg:  
> vi - lust sans  
> hubble - outer sans
> 
> happy (ONLY SLIGHTLY LATE) birthday underlust!

The first thing Vi does upon waking up is reach out, hoping that his mates have simply slipped out of reach. But the bed is cold - or, well, as cold as it can be, given its current occupant is constantly feverish. He lets out a sad little sigh before finally opening his eye sockets. 

The curtains are still closed - small blessings, considering Echo seemed to feel the need to open them as soon as his own sockets were open, without any regard for his more light sensitive mates. But the bed is empty and cold, and the apartment beyond the bedroom is silent. 

What a way to spend his birthday. But maybe he’s getting ahead of himself - and it’s not like he doesn’t have his own job to head to, soon, anyway. 

His phone tells him it’s eight o’ clock - he _just_ missed Hubble, dammit! - which means he has two hours to kill before heading to work. Ten minutes are easily gone with his usual morning shower, and considering how sweaty he gets, it’s never wise to do anything more than just stand beneath the freezing spray until after the day is over. 

As expected, the apartment is empty, though there’s a sticky note on the fridge from the blue pad that Blue prefers. His handwriting is, as per usual, perfect, but dark as if he had pushed the pen as hard as he could. 

_VI,  
SORRY TO LEAVE BEFORE YOU WOKE UP, BUT THOSE KIDS AREN’T GOING TO TEACH THEMSELVES ABOUT EROSION. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!  
LOVE, BLUE_

There are scribbled flowers and stars surrounding the words, and even though it’s stupidly sentimental (because it’s a _post-it note_ , damn it), Vi kind of wants to frame it or something. 

Of course, he won’t, because that would be weird. But he does hold the little blue square in his hands longer than is strictly necessary, making the corners curl around his thumbs slightly. 

He only stops because his phones rings with an incoming text. Probably just Taffy. 

And there _is_ a text from his brother that he missed, presumably because he washing the overnight sweat from his bones when it arrived. But the newer one, from Hubble, makes his soul soar in his chest. 

**starry eyes:** happy birthday <3  
**me:** thank you sugar!!! i miss you  
**starry eyes:** shouldnt have slept through my alarm n blues alarm then  
**me:** meanie :(  
**starry eyes:** its tru n u know it  
**starry eyes:** i gotta go but ill see u later  
**me:** ok love you <3

Blue texts him then, and Vi sends one last heart emoji to Hubble before switching windows. 

**bluebird:** I CANNOT TEXT FOR LONG, BUT I WANTED TO MAKE SURE I TOLD YOU THAT I LEFT BREAKFAST IN THE FRIDGE. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! <3 

He doesn’t respond to the string of emojis Vi sends in response, which is understandable - middle schoolers need one’s complete focus, even if you had as much energy as Blue. He’ll see it when he sees it. 

Vi turns his attention back to the fridge, bypassing his usual meal replacement shake to find whatever Blue left. It’s easy to spot - he’s covered the plate in tin foil and labeled it with a sticky note, blue like the one he left on the fridge. This one simply reads _BREAKFAST_ in his handwriting, no bells or whistles. 

The store-bought, home-heated cinnamon rolls taste divine, but Vi can’t help but think it’d be better if Blue and Hubble were sharing them with him. 

And if he didn’t have to go to work. But he likes helping people, on his birthday and all other days. 

He eats two of the cinnamon rolls, before rewrapping the plate and putting it away. Somehow, the aftertaste is less than pleasant, even with how sweet they’d been. He can’t help but cluck his (currently) non-existent tongue as he cleans what little mess there is, trying to rid himself of it. 

The rest of his morning is automatic, from pulling his cardigan on to slipping his lanyard over his skull, and finally making sure the door is locked before shortcutting to work. He supposes he’ll have time in his office to look over who’s meant to be coming in today, and maybe to grab some chips to munch on. 

Except he lands very much _not_ where he wants to be. 

Close enough, maybe, to someone who doesn’t know him well. But Vi is a _master_ at everything he does, from breaking the laws of physics to helping his clients. And he knows he meant to land _outside_ the building, not in the stairwell. 

He lands badly, ankle twisting slightly as he tries to keep his balance. The pain makes him hiss, and even though he catches himself quickly, it doesn’t go away, even after he manages to reach the waiting room, where he can sit and catch the breath he doesn’t need. 

“Everything alright, Vi?” One of his colleagues pokes her head out of her office, worry clear in her features. Vi only waves her on; he can see her client in the room, looking on with concern. 

“i’ll be alright, just tripped on the stairs.” When the door closes, he limps to his own office, shutting the door for privacy. It feels like he’s walking on hot coals as he unties his boot and works it off his foot. The boot falls to the ground with a heavy thump, followed silently by his sock. 

The very bottom of his fibula and his cuboid are both bruised badly, flushed a dark violet with magic. Pressing on them hurts bad enough to make him gasp, and he ends up spending his now-negligible free time googling how to treat ankle sprains. 

His first client is thankfully - or perhaps unfortunately, considering his specialty - well-versed in sports, and Vi picks her mind for solutions before guiding the conversation back to more pressing concerns, at least where her own therapy was at issue.

(He hates seeing his clients cry, though he supposes that’s what he’s around for. A shoulder to cry on, when they don’t have one.) 

His next break is spent texting his mates, trying to get one of them to pick up what his first client recommended for his ankle. He tries to be as cryptic as possible - mainly because he doesn’t want to worry them, they’re at _work_ \- but…

 **me:** hey if either of you have time could you pick me up some painkillers and an ace bandage?  
**bluebird:** IS EVERYTHING OKAY???  
**me:** perfectly fine! just need that stuff lol  
**starry eyes:** liar liar  
**starry eyes:** what happened  
**me:** im fine!!!  
**starry eyes:** sounds like something a liar would say  
**bluebird:** REGARDLESS OF WHETHER OR NOT VI IS LYING  
**bluebird:** I’LL COME GET YOU WHEN AT 2:45 OKAY?? AND HUBBLE CAN GET THAT STUFF FOR YOU.

Vi stares for a moment, maybe a little stupidly. He can just shortcut home… 

Except, well. That’s what had caused him to sprain his ankle in the first place. It doesn’t hurt too badly now, thankfully, except when he moves to call patients in and then sit back down.

 **bluebird:** VI???  
**me:** yeah ok  
**me:** just for transparencys sake i think i sprained my ankle lol

He has to take his next client after that, so despite the angry vibrations that are no doubt the result of concerned texts from Blue and Hubble, Vi puts his phone on silent and stows it away in his pocket.

It’s tough to focus today, for some reason, even beyond the slight throb of his ankle. The office feels warm, even though the window is constantly cracked, and when he looks down at the _Change of Insurance_ form another client hands to him, sweat falls onto it. 

“Are you okay?” she asks timidly, still rather shy despite having seen Vi for nearly a year. 

“i’m not feeling too hot,” he admits, “but i’ll be fine. happens every now and then,” _and you need someone to talk to_ , his mind supplies. 

The day passes in a blur, and he almost wants to send a mass-email, apologizing to his clients because he was such a goddamned _wreck_ today, and they deserved more than that from him - 

“HI, DEAREST.” Blue is in front of him suddenly, still dressed in his work clothing. His eyelights are soft and kind, and stars, Vi kind of feels like shit. 

“hey, sugar,” he replies after a moment. “didn’t realize it was two forty-five a’ready.” 

“IT’S NEARLY THREE FIFTEEN NOW, ACTUALLY,” Blue says. “I WAS IN THE WAITING ROOM, BUT I GOT WORRIED WHEN YOU DIDN’T COME OUT… AND THEN I REMEMBERED YOUR ANKLE, AND THAT YOU MIGHT NEED HELP WALKING!” 

Vi can’t help but crack a smile at that. Bless Blue and his relentless positivity and enthusiasm. “little bit,” he admits, raising his arms up to reach for the other. Blue pulls him up easily, and the room swims for a moment, before resolving into their apartment. 

“REST,” Blue orders as he places Vi on the couch. “AND I! WILL BE BACK WITH SOME SNACKS AND AN ICE PACK FOR YOU.” 

“it’d be easier to relax if i wasn’t wearing pants,” Vi calls back, though he isn’t sure Blue hears him. In the meantime, he shrugs off his cardigan, and when the other does return, he eyes the icepack in his hands, wrapped in a dishtowel. “i think i’m s’pposed to wrap it up first?” 

“...YOU’RE BURNING UP.” The icepack is pressed to his head as he’s processing the blunt statement, and it’s suddenly easier to think. Blue’s hands stop at his hips. “DO YOU REALLY NEED ME TO TAKE YOUR PANTS OFF?” 

It’s part-teasing, part-concern, and Vi almost doesn’t answer. He’s already caused enough trouble today - failing his clients, needing help getting home…

“STOP THAT,” Blue murmurs, squeezing his mandible in one hand. “YOU’RE FINE. AND IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY, ANYWAY, SO LET US TAKE CARE OF YOU.” When Vi nods slowly, a little choked up, he repeats, “PANTS?”

“i fucking hate them,” Vi whines in response, kicking his legs a bit to help the process. It’s definitely more comfortable without them on, though he’d be happier if he wasn’t still sweaty and in pain. 

Although those were facts of his life. So he switches it up a bit: he’d be happier if he could change into one of Hubble’s cozy shirts, and also if Hubble would show up already. 

Blue folds his pants, before pressing the icepack to his skull once more. “HOW’S THAT?” 

“so much better,” Vi groans. 

Hubble chooses that moment to shortcut in, carrying a bag labeled with the name of the local pharmacy. He looks tired; the library isn’t particularly heavy on social interaction, but their poor mate is so _shy_. Vi grabs for him, whining a bit. 

“happy birthday,” Hubble says softly, leaning down to peck his nasal ridge. “i got your stuff.” 

Blue grabs the bag before Vi can, inspecting the contents before finding the bandage and unraveling it carefully. Then, he steadies Vi’s leg with a hum and gets to work. 

It aches a bit, but Vi’s felt worse; he could probably count with his fingers the more painful experiences he’s had and use them all up before hitting this. But it’s still unpleasant. 

It’s done quickly, though, because Blue knows what he’s doing. Hubble’s sat himself on the arm of the couch, next to Vi’s head, and he watches as Blue sorts through the bag. There are the requested painkillers, of course, which he sets on the coffee table, and some ginger ale. 

But Blue’s still rummaging through the bag, and Hubble’s purring a little behind him - really quietly, he’s so quiet in everything he does, like he’s scared to make a sound. Vi can’t see well; the icepack on his head is heavy, but it feels too nice to move. 

“what is it?” he asks eventually. 

“gotcha some stuff,” Hubble replies, tapping his fingers on Vi’s shoulders. “y’know, because it’s your birthday.” 

Hubble slides behind him, propping him upright, and when the icepack slides from the angle it’s been forced into, he holds it to Vi’s forehead. Vi could just about melt, no pun intended, from that alone. His own purr joins Hubble’s, drowning it out even though it’s just as soft and only slightly louder. 

Blue shifts his legs, resting them in his lap with the utmost care. “LET’S SEE… THERE’S AN AWFUL LOT OF SUGARY FOOD IN HERE!” His attempt to sound annoyed doesn’t fool any of them. 

Hubble laughs sleepily behind Vi, sagging into the couch a bit more. “sugar for… well. y’call us sugar.” 

“yeah,” Vi replies fondly, replacing Hubble’s hand on the icepack. He knows the signs of a sleep attack ready to pounce, and Hubble’s already in its claws - most likely exhausted from work. “and you should sleep, sugar.” 

The little laugh Blue releases doesn’t escape his notice, but he ignores that, in favor of throwing the warming icepack to the ground with practiced precision and moving his legs enough that Blue can slump onto his chest without moving too much from where he is. 

“YOU DON’T - WELL,” he laughs again, “I GUESS WE SHOULD WAIT FOR HIM TO WAKE UP TO GIVE YOU GIFTS.” 

“yeah,” Vi agrees, too busy basking in Hubble’s embrace and Echo’s contact to be more eloquent. “now c’mere before i throw a fit.” 

Blue snuggles into him with a soft sigh, and Vi kind of does have to admit to himself that even though he sprained his ankle and had a stupid LT spike… well, he could think of worse ways to spend a birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @avosettas (18+)


End file.
